


Friends In All The Right Places

by Dekka



Series: Mitch Marner Whump Fics [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Drug Use, Gen, M/M, Walking In On Someone, edibles, high
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-04 00:51:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12158223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dekka/pseuds/Dekka
Summary: Mitch bites off more than he can chew and goes to Auston for help dealing with the aftermath.





	Friends In All The Right Places

**Author's Note:**

> I know no one in this fic. This is purely fiction.
> 
> Dont do drugs, kids.

Find Auston. _Find Auston_. 

It repeats like a mantra in his head.

Auston will know what to do. Auston will fix this.

He’s somewhere here, someone said so- one of the older guys. Mitch stumbles against the stairway’s banister, gripping tight to the railing to stay upright. If he was any drunker he’d be rolling down the steps to his death. He tries to pat himself on the back for succeeding at something tonight, but losing one hand from the railing proves to be one hand too many. 

His footing wavers again, and in a flash of panic he remembers- 

“Auston’s upstairs, Mitchy,” Gardiner had warned him. It didn't feel like a warning at the time. Truth be told, Mitch was too messed up to really hear anything except for _Auston_ and _upstairs_ before he was on his way, thanking Gards in a slurred scramble of words. 

That was right after someone shoved an edible his way. Now, with the drug kicking in, and the help of alcohol, standing is a feat, moving is a feat, and even thinking in straight line is a feat.

Mitch makes it up the stairs to the landing in one piece by nothing less than a miracle. Some higher power begs him to stay laying by the top step, but he needs to keep moving. He’s out of breath and the air in front of him is swimming in patterns too complicated to follow, but he made it up here, _he’s too close to give up_. 

Find Auston, Mitch thinks, Auston will make this better. 

Nothing settles his panic, but knowing his closest teammate is only feet away propels him forward. It still feels like an eternity until he’s opening the first door he sees. 

He’s right on the mark. 

Auston is definitely in there, it just takes Mitch a while to figure out what the naked girl on top of him is doing there too. 

“Mitchy, what the fuck,” Auston growls, flipping the girl so that she’s under him and covered up. Thoughts connect slowly until Auston is grabbing his discarded hoodie and throwing it to the girl while he slips his boxers back on. Seeing Auston naked is nothing new, but Mitch adverts his eyes for the sake of the girl. He thinks if he had the mental capacity right now he’d probably be feeling pretty awkward. As it is though, he's just happy to finally see his friend. 

When Auston reaches him, his grip is tight, grounding, and it forces a breath out of Mitch for the first time in what feels like forever. The accompanying cough that follows is painful and dizzying. 

He doesn't know what to say now that he’s actually found Auston, just knows that he’ll be okay, and that's enough. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Auston asks cautiously, eyes searching Mitch’s as if that’ll give away the list of contents Mitch has either drank, ate, snorted, or otherwise taken. His hand is gripping Mitch’s upper arm so tight it'll probably leave bruises, but painful or not, Mitch still leans into the touch, even when Auston shakes him, as if trying to force clarity into Mitch’s brain. 

“Edible. Alcohol. _So bad_.” Mitch leans further against Auston, as if he needs proof to show exactly how bad is 'so bad'. Auston’s grip goes lax for a second before it’s back in full force. 

The anger on Auston’s face is expected, but Mitch prays he looks pathetic enough to bypass the part of the night where Auston yells at him for not being careful enough.

“What edible? From who?” He demands. 

The girl squeezes past them in the doorway, politely ignoring their exchange and Auston's fleeting look. His sweatshirt brushes her knees as she walks away. When Mitch looks back to Auston, and right past his massive frame, he can see that they left the window open in the room, showing Toronto’s skyline of lights. It’s beautiful, so bright against the black sky- 

Auston shakes him, hard enough that Mitch’s teeth clatter. Fear reawakens in the pit of his stomach for no good reason, but one look back at Auston has him calming down, relying more and more on his help to stand. 

There’s so many things about Auston that Mitch has never noticed before; there’s his slightly unsymmetrical nose, the hair just above his lip, the dark set of his eyes, the solid mass of his body, the gold chain folding by his collar bones, the trail of hair that leads down and down and down- 

Even professional athletes have limits to their stamina, so Auston moves them, practically carrying Mitch, until he has him sitting on the edge of the bed. 

Mitch has enough of a mind to scrunch his nose up, picking at the covers. “Sex blankets,” he complains half-heartedly, too happy that the world has decided to stop spinning to try to temp it by standing off the contaminated sheets. 

Auston releases him with a pat once he knows Mitch is steady sitting up, in favor of finding the rest of his clothes. 

“You better have taken it from a teammate and not some creep,” Auston lectures. More and more words come from his mouth, but a wave of nausea has decided to take over Mitch, probably from the way his eyes follow Auston as he bends down to pick his jeans up off the floor.

He’s falling forward before he knows what’s happening. 

There’s the slight feel of his heart lifting against his back, but then feet from the ground he comes to a halt, coming face to face with the open fly of Auston’s jeans. 

“Warn me, you little shit,” Auston huffs, dragging Mitch back up and onto the bed. With so much to focus on, Mitch can’t help but notice that Auston’s out of breath. 

“Warn you what?” There’s dimmed lights on the ceiling that are moving in small circles, like little air planes of fire. For a second they stand still, then stay rooted. Maybe, Mitch concedes, he is too drunk, too high, to stay sitting. 

Auston tucks him against the pillows this time, making sure he’s really good before he goes back to redressing. 

“If you’re going to fucking face plant and make me explain why you have a concussion to Coach,” Auston says to his earlier point, like it’s obvious. But Mitch remembers the Great Hike of 2017, all the way up those fancy steps to Auston, like climbing the stairway to heaven. Sitting should be a breeze. 

“I’m good,” Mitch promises, thumb up in the air as if that proves his regained coordination. For a while he watches his thumb hover above his head, blocking the dimming lights one by one as he floats the finger through the air. 

When his hand finally lands, thumb-plane safely in the hanger of the blankets, he looks to Auston to find the other’s amused gaze already on him. 

“You wont be saying that in a couple hours,” Auston promises, finally glancing away and zipping his pants, all while looking for his second shoe. He’s still shirtless, and no matter how many times Mitch has seen buffed up dudes, Auston’s brand of in-shape never gets old. 

“Stop staring,” Auston teases, flexing as a joke. Mitch’s mouth still goes dry, but his smile is dopy and easygoing. 

There’s only so many times your best friend has to watch over you as you trip out from some fucked up edible, so Mitch takes advantage of the hospitality. 

“At least lay with a dude before you start stripping,” he says, knowing full well that Auston will know what he needs. 

“Technically it’s not stripping. More like reverse stripping.” Auston’s casual words betray his actions as he crawls into the other side of the bed. He’s warm and solid and Mitch can’t help the way he absolutely melts into the other’s side. 

The door opens what could be minutes or hours later, but Mitch is too comfortable to care. His thumb-plane has found a new home, buried with his other fingers in the loop of Auston’s jeans. 

“Is he okay?” Mitch hears. 

It sounds like Matt. 

“I heard someone gave him an edible.” That voice is definitely Morgan, Captain-like and low and concerned. 

“Are you- _are you naked_?” 

There’s panicked shuffling and the deep rumble of Auston’s chest, his reply quick, piercing, and quiet. Mitch can feel his eyes getting heavier by the second, aided by the warmth cocooning him, promising a safe place for the night. 

Darkness is like an old friend after the kaleidoscope of colors Mitch has been seeing for the last hour. He never hears the guys leave, asleep before he can even think twice. 

***

Mitch wakes up in a world of pain, sweating and held down by the harsh weight of two-hundred pounds of professional athlete. 

His mouth is dry, his head is foggy, and above all, he feels like his gut is twisting it’s way out of his throat. 

Dashing from the bed, he trips twice, once on the rug by the bedside, and again on the titled floor of the bathroom. 

Not a second after his head reaches the toilet he’s puking. 

“You good?” Auston asks from the bed, voice still rough from sleep. From the mirror in the bathroom Mitch can see him propped up on his elbow in bed, dark hair splayed every which way and eyes half-closed. 

A wave hits and Mitch only has the strength to groan back, head hanging down against his arms that are caging in the toilet. 

The next round of puking has him completely wiped out, breathing harshly against porcelain, begging for mercy.

Auston eventually wakes, not exhausted enough to sleep through the sounds of his best friend getting violently ill. He sits on the lip of the tub when he joins Mitch, hand soft at the base of his teammate’s spine. 

“Are you okay? You were pretty out of it last night.” 

If it weren't for the amount of pain he’s currently experiencing, Mitch would find the time to be embarrassed.

“Matt and Mo thought we did the do,” Auston adds casually. 

Mitch shoots him a glare, but moving his head so fast makes another spike of nausea flare up, forcing his face back into the toilet. 

When the next round of puking stops, Mitch shakily relies. “For a guy that has so much sex you’d think you’d be mature enough to actually say the word ‘sex’.” 

Auston snorts, not offended by the chirp, leaving Mitch’s side and returning a second later with a towel. 

“Take a shower. I’m staying in here incase you decide to take a nose-dive.” 

Mitch doesn’t fight it, knowing it’s no use. 

The water, when he finally gets in, is steaming hot, melting the heavy feeling from his skin. In the background, over the roar of the shower he can hear Auston’s heels banging against the bottom of the sink cabinets. Even with a hangover the sound is oddly comforting. 

Cleaning up makes him feel like a new man, enough so that he’s ready to face the owner of the house, JVR, and all the teammates that probably ended up crashing here.

Mitch and Auston descend the steps together, met by light cheers. 

“Mitchy’s alive,” Willy cries, practically springing from his feet to grab Mitch in a hug. 

Mo, bless his soul, pulls the rookies apart, checking Mitch over as if Auston sloppily glued him back together this morning.

“You doing okay?” Mo asks, eyes set in concern, as if drugs are anything new to pro sports. 

“Edibles, man,” Mitch tries to joke. It gets some knowing laughs from a couple teammates who’re lounging around, but Mo still looks worried.

“Auston took good care of you?” He asks. 

Mitch nods again, patting Mo’s shoulder to placate him as he escapes his questioning. “All good,” he promises. 

He settles himself at the kitchen counter, next to Brownie, who’s head is down, breathing deeply as if that’ll clean the alcohol from his system. Freddie is on Connors other side, watching the younger player from the corner of his eye. 

“Auston was with a ten last night Mitchy,” Freddie says in greeting. Even though Mitch can see Freddie looking at him it still feels like Connor has all of his attention.

“Yeah he was with me,” Mitch smirks. He gets a fist-bump from Auston, who gets an unimpressed look from Freddie. 

As far as bad nights go, it was pretty great.


End file.
